Isabella Hooper Whore ❤️❤️

About San Jose

Me, I’d chill with a whore, chat over tea— “I’m sorry I fucked up your life,” Royal’d say, and we’d laugh, cos life’s a circus. They’d spill tea—literal and gossip—bout clients, freaks, the lot. Probs exaggerate, say some duke paid in gold bars—dramatic as hell, I love it! Sarcasm? Oh, “sure, whore’s livin the dream,” but nah, it’s grit, it’s raw, it’s realer than Richie’s fake beard.

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Qu. Y29b, Or, about a man who doesn't stay home much: “He's always ______.” Courtship, Marriage, Childbearing. Qu.

Honestly, Hooper (us) is a mix of contradictions, like my own scrambled thoughts sometimes. Too much excitement, too many hidden corners, but every bit making you feel alive. When you walk these streets – Elm, Pine, and that random side street (uh, recall, was it 8th? Maybe?) – you feel every beat of your existence, man!

Deborah Hooper Obituary - Greensboro, NC